I Think My Husband is a Murderer

I open my eyes. The translucent curtains, grey in color, paint the wooden floors a warm color as the morning sun beams through them. I turn over. My dry, sleepy eyes burn. I slept like a log yet somehow still feel pretty damn exhausted. I glance over to Jesse. I stare at the slow rise and fall of his chest and the way his tan skin wraps around glorious, bulky muscles. He’s sound asleep.

Ten minutes later, I’m downstairs preparing breakfast for the sleeping bear I left in bed. The egg sizzles beneath my nose. I hate the smell, so I’m grateful that the green tea brewing behind me dulls some of the odor. The toaster dings, and two flat pieces of bread jump half an inch into the sky before settling back into the forbidden bathbomb.

I’m dragging jam across warm toast when two broad hands brush across my scantily covered skin. I flinch, unaware Jesse even entered the room. He doesn’t react. Instead, he drops his lips to the nape of my neck. He presses a kiss there. I flinch again and shivers run down my spine. His chest rumbles behind me as he chuckles, sadistically entertained by my reaction.

“Good morning, baby,” he whispers against my skin. I murmur a response. My gaze dances down to his hand wrapped around my waist. His wedding band sits snugly, shiny and expensive, on his long, thick fingers. It’s hard not to think about obscene things married to a man built like Jesse is. He’s sex personified, and he knows it.

“Slept well?” he murmurs. He grabs my finger and raises it to his lips to lick off a bit of jam. I hadn’t even noticed it was there.

“I guess,” I sigh, “I have dry eyes though.” Jesse gently returns my hand to the counter, and his own hand reaches forward. When it recedes, I see a small bottle of eyedrops left behind. A small smile grows on my face.

I smash the P.B.& J sandwich together. My eyes narrow in on my own hand. My caramel skin, freckled fingers, feature the acrylic nails I’d had done just before we moved down here, but no wedding ring. My gaze dances over to the sink. Nothing.

“Breakfast is ready,” I say to Jesse. I shake my head and make a mental reminder to search for the ring later.

Jesse and I got married a month ago and the first thing we did was pack up and move. Jesse got the job he was aiming for, so the timing was perfect. He loves it here, but I can’t help but feel unsettled. I grew up in this city; it’s where I met Jesse. We were friends that ended up meeting each other in school abroad. He was finishing up his Doctorates, and I my bachelors. Now that we’re back here– ’home’– it’s weird. He’s done everything to support me after we graduated despite how hard that year was for both of us, so the last thing I want is to make him think I’m not grateful for him and everything he’s done for us.

“Talk to me,” I hear Jesse say. He’s seated at the table with his breakfast and tea before him, his morning newspaper on his tablet, and his phone downturned. My gaze aligns with his. He taps his lap, so I lower myself to it. “Is it because you’re home again? I know it’s not easy.” There’s that word again.

“It’s…” I pause and take a deep breath. I lean my head on his shoulder and a comforting hand holds me close. “It’s weird being here without Stephan, yeah,” I admit. “I just wish they’d catch the asshole who did it.” A burn creeps up behind my eyes.

“It’s okay, baby. You need to leave that behind if you’re ever going to heal,” Jesse reasons.

“How do I heal from that? It still hurts. It’s still… It’s still hard to breathe!” My tears are winning the battle no matter how I blink them back. I haven’t been the same since Stephan died. Every nap or slumber feels like I’m inside a box being peered at. Every day that passes leaves me behind. Everyone is living and moving on from the ‘tragic accident’ and I still shake at the thought of closing my eyes at night.

“I’m right here, baby,” Jesse says gently. “Do you need me to take the day?”

“No, no. It’s your first day in your new position,” I sniffle.

“But you’re hurting. It’s bothering me to leave you at home like this.” I stare at him. Then I drop my head back to his shoulder.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll just work on a new painting or something.” It’s a lie. I haven’t touched a paintbrush since the incident. Jesse’s warmth is the perfect remedy. Honestly, I’d love it if he took the day off to dote over me and cuddle me until the world feels safe again, but I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to be the weak woman that needs her husband to sleep and breathe… Even if he’s the only place that feels safe now.

“When I call, answer. I’ll check up on you,” Jesse says. I lay on him while he finishes his breakfast. He chucks strawberries and blueberries into his mouth before finishing his sandwich all while reading the morning news. I catch a couple glimpses of the paper, but pay it no mind.

Jesse’s phone buzzes once, then twice, then a third. I reach over for it. It unlocks at the sight of my face. My tired eyes scan the texts over and over before I place the phone down before my husband.

“Daniel is reminding you about dinner tonight,” I say to him. Jesse glances down at the phone. “Daniel McDowell.”

“Yes, he wants to welcome us to the city,” Jesse responds. “He’s chief of the precinct closest to the building I report to.”

“Us?” I repeat. “Do I have to come?” The thought of meeting new people right now seems more draining and threatening than welcoming.

“You don’t have to, but I’d really like it if you were there,” Jesse says, returning to his paper. It’s hard to turn down an invitation such as that one from the love of my life.

“Mister Sinclaire!” says a burly man with thick, white hair. Him and Jesse aggressively shake hands for a labored minute as he smiles at us. He looks back and forth before his eyes register what he’s looking at. “Is this the missus? Aren’t you the prettiest little lady.” I assume this is Daniel. Daniel looks back at Jesse and smiles even wider.

“You’re even more attractive than I’d heard. The women are gonna eat you up.” He quickly glances back at me and laughs heartily, “not that he’ll give them the time of day with a vixen such as yourself on his arm though.” He spares me a wink before he and Jesse finally part.

Jesse guides me into our seat before sitting beside me. His warm hand drops to my lap. He squeezes my bare thigh beneath the table. My gaze meets his. He leans down, his lips aligned with my ear.

“Say the word and we’ll leave right now,” he says.

Daniel smells of smoke. There’s no cigarette in his hands, but his charred fingertips tell me that only recently became the case. His heavy wrinkles and discolored teeth make obvious that he’s a chainsmoker. I’m only grateful that I managed to control Jesse’s addiction before it got this bad.

Jesse and Daniel settle into a conversation

I searched the house up and down earlier today while Jesse was at work, and still haven’t found my wedding ring. Every hour that passed with a bare finger made me feel lonelier and lonelier.

Slowly I take the contents of my handbag out: my purse, some scattered money that Jesse must’ve thrown in, a flat pair of shoes, various medication bottles, my makeup bag. Satisfyingly, I see a small shiny ring at the bottom of the bag. I breathe off a breath of relief and slip it onto my finger. My makeup and now organized purse go back into my bag. The shoes follow, and so do the bottles of medication. It’s only then do I realize that my bundle of housekeys isn’t inside. I wrinkle my eyebrows.

“Hey, baby. Thanks for coming out tonight,” Jesse says the minute I step out of the bathroom. When his eyes land on my naked body, the bed he was previously making is suddenly incredibly irrelevant. He approaches me at the dresser.

His warmth is pressed against me. It envelopes me. I wish I could say it got old the way Jesse worshipped my naked body. It’s invigorating that he’s exactly as he was when we first started dating.

The lingering headache I’ve had since dinner pounds behind my eyes. I blow off.

“It was as bad as I thought it would be,” I respond. Jesse chuckles.

“You’re right. He’s definitely a character,” he responds. Jesse’s hand rises to cup my tit. I lean into him– let him have his way.

“Have you seen my keys, they’re not in my bag,” I comment after a short silence. Before he can answer, his lips are glued to my skin. He kisses me up and down tenderly, sensually. The man that my husband is.

“Your keys?” he whispers against my skin. “No. Did you go driving?”

“No. I haven’t driven for the week. The last time I saw my keys, they were in my bag.” I blow off. Jesse squeezes me.

“Don’t stress. I’ll find your keys.” He kisses my neck. My legs shake, and my head drops. I feel him smile against my skin. His hot breath comes next. “My baby should never have to stress about anything.”

“Thank you, Jes,” I murmur. He hums, then stands to his full height. We eye each other in the mirror.

“Are you in the mood tonight?” he asks me, his hand never leaving my breast. Pain surges through my nipple when he rolls it between his fingers. A soft gasp leaves my lips.

“Seems you are,” I respond.

“I’m always in the mood when I’m with my wife.” He whispers the last part in my ear. I scoff. My smile stretches across my face. His free hand grabs and squeezes my ass.

“I’ll suck it,” I respond.

“I love it when you spoil me,” he responds. He smacks my ass before walking away. He leaves the room, possibly about to look for my car keys.